Little Bird
by morgn
Summary: [HIATUS] Birds have never truly been beings for cages, and one bird has entered the biggest cage it can find, wrapped in velvet promises. Japanese royalty AU. Oc's present. 2015
1. - foreward

**DISCLAIMER:** the characters from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (comics) and any other incarnation or variation of these characters mentioned do not belong to me, they belong to their respective owners and franchises.

 **COPYRIGHT:** _all rights reserved._ this literary work or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, distributed or used in any manner whatsoever without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations for non-commercial purposes with full credit and source information given. Manips/edits/photos/art associated with this work are by me, and if by someone else, credit will be given in future author's notes.

 **WARNINGS:** none announced. N/A

 **Author's Note:** this fanfiction, as a work of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2k12) is an alternate Universe (royalty) scenario and contains canonxoc pairings, though they are not fully romantic, like a mix of platonic and romance, if possible. If I have used any works that are yours and you wish to have credit for this, please message me and you will recieve it.

 **DEDICATION:** to _**Skandron**_ and her beautiful story **'Bondage.'** That is where I got my inspiration from and the stories are alike and similar in ways at points, but please read it, it's really awesome.


	2. - ch one

_A forest bird never wants a cage_ – Henrik Ibsen

* * *

 **Ch one**

Air seems to be a luxury she can't afford as her feet scramble for purchase across cracked concrete and splintered cobblestones. A crescendo of screaming and cursing sits in her wake as earth melts from the soles of her boots, leaving nothing but a faint imprint in dusted streets. The Freelands had never been kind to a girl that could tread so lightly.

Dust settled in her lungs and flooded hollow bones, as hollow as a little bird's, and cat-like green hues scoured the mess of hurtling bodies like a predator, sliding emotionlessly over twisted mouths forged into noiseless screams. Bones crunched, her shoulders bounce with scorched memories playing off her tongue and cracked fingernails curled harder into the bag that swung around her shoulders, containing the precious clutch of valuables between a woven world. Then, suddenly, her seated heart knocked hard against the clockwork of ribs stretched across her chest in a dizzying dance when a mass of fur pushed through the thrown up wall of dust, flanked by two others, with piercing yellow eyes that seemed to split the ground in two. Its mouth pulled back over pointed, sharp canines in a sickly smile as her feet pushed her up and around a crumbling corner, the only sight she had given him being a shadow and nobody remembers shadows.

A strangled gasp splintered on her tongue like cracked glass, the broken words scraping her throat raw at the sight. Her chance at escape was a long stretch of packed houses and although twilight was pulling fast over the town, which groaned under the weight of perpetrators and thieves, it was not enough to hide one girl from hungry, starved eyes. No room was left to slip into and hide as a growl cracked the air behind her, like a wail from a cornered animal, and shook the earth apart beneath her toes that seemed to fly across dirt like wings were attached.

For a moment, the noises behind her smeared into a mess of sound and faded away, the world stopped turning and stayed as still as she did. The world blurs out as she wonders whether to cease her moving feet, to let her body and crimes and punishments fall back into the hands of men with twisted claws that would break her body in two.

But then, her mind flooded with the memories of a girl with cornflower hair, tucked away in the corner of a house with one room, and she saw her own fingers lifting a bowl of medicine towards chapped lips. As the memory faded into her mind, fire tore against her skin with newfound determination.

Relief flooded her veins however, as the houses split apart like a crack in glass to form a dark opening and as silently as she entered the world, she fell into the embrace of cold, scraping shadowed fingertips, pressing against the wall. Her breath heaved her chest up and downwards, pumping to the beat of a heart worn out. When the footsteps faded away and the night began to cloak the Freelands, she slipped back into the world.

Twilight cloaked a frail frame as she found herself on her way back and a rare smile plucked the corners of her lips upwards, fingers already digging into the fabricated walls of the shoulder bag around narrow planes. On splintered legs, the one room home creaked under the push of moonlight, like a hand pushing into the dirt and she could only feel the warmth rolling off of it.

"Ash, I've got that _O'pas_ you needed –" her voice pulls and frays in her throat, when her fingers press open the door and she doesn't find a crumpled figure of blond hair and stretched smiles in the corner of the room, loosely hugging a pillow made of straw. Her blood bounces with potency and rage bleeds into her cat-like eyes at the sight that fills the small room.

The handle of the door moans in pain as it cracks beneath her fingers. A figure over seven feet tall smears a shadow across the room that stretches broad shoulders and powerful legs into a twisted monster that leaves her skin crawling. Claws clip into a pale throat, the scarlet blood crawling downwards like a taunting threat and the fire claws to the surface in her abdomen. The head that holds her friend turns to look over its shoulder, and _Felidae_ features cause her body to shake in anger.

But as her mouth parts to shake the world around her, as Ash pulls at the claws around her throat, large hands grip her arms and the shadowed _Felidae_ stretches a smile, causing pointed fangs to press over the rim of his muzzle as the crumbling world she called home is tipped on its axis in return for the dusted ground overshadowed by the lamplights above. Pain explodes over the entire right side of her body, as she coughs up the dust that had pressed into her lungs, small rocks sticking to the sweat-drenched skin. Her fingers claw into the earth, strangled noises ripping at her throat as she pushes upwards onto her elbows, only to stare at _Ursidae_ paws, the long black claws digging holes in the world beneath her. Unsteadily, she lifted her mess of dark hair wrapped in cloth to stare at the same yellow eyes that had pinned her to a wall with a snarl tearing open his jaws.

As if the world had pulled any energy left in her veins, she felt her eyelids drop, and a humourless laugh pulled through her lips. When the sound broke the air in two, the _Ursidae_ felt rumble in his gut as his large paws dipped to hang onto the belt that was wrapped around his broad waist. "Maurice," she croaked her body turning slowly so that she lay on her back, staring up at the eyes that had pinned her like pallid darts. A sickly broken smile twisted itself on her features, her seated heart knocking painfully against her ribs. "Listen, I've got a –"

Suddenly, pain erupted in her abdomen once more, and she coughed on the splintered words on her tongue, blood taking its place as she skidded across the narrow road on her side, sending up a cloud of dust, back bending painfully around the flared out bottom of a lamplight.

Maurice Titanos, a mountain of muscle wrapped in patchy Northern white fur, stalked towards the _Sapien_ girl with eyes sunken in like wave-rattled ships, and lowered himself to his haunches. His large paws fell lazily over his bent knees and his chest rattled as his spoke. In the background, the world broke apart in a fury of screaming and gargled pain in loosened throats, and his teeth grit. It wouldn't be long until they stumbled upon them.

His large paws curled around her neck as a groan split between her teeth, the claws pressing dangerously close to the vein as he lifted her effortlessly. Behind him, her dark eyes fell on the unconscious body of Ash in another _Sapien's_ arms and her blood turned hot once again but the loss of energy kept her bound by the Polar bear's claws.

A snicker pulled at the corner of Maurice's muzzle. "Hello, little bird, it seems you've flown away with some supplies that I needed," he hisses, and black dots suddenly blur the world around her eyes as his grip tightens. As her eyes droop, her murmurs, almost thoughtfully appraising how silently she falls away into the darkness, "and I'm gonna need them back."

He lowers her as she falls into the black, and folds her into his arms, ready to steal her away in the midst of battle when an agonized cry alerts him to a scene behind him. The _Ursidae_ feels his heart lurch and twists, lowering himself into a defensive position and a growl peeling back his muzzle off of his teeth only to feel his frenzied heart into an overload.

Both of his comrades lay dormant at the foot of the stranger, bodies mangled and bones broken as the staff he holds is lowered gingerly to the ground, a soft thump the only sound that breaks the silence beside the rampaging armies behind him of the neighbouring clans. In the arrival's arms, he holds the skeletal blond as if she's weightless like a child in one arm; as if the only thing residing in her bones is air. The figure is tall, almost lanky if not for the filled out muscle along his shoulders and spreads down his arms like flowed water, supported by strong legs. Across the shoulders, a thick cloak hides most of his frame, but the hard plates of a yellowed plastron stretch across his front, and the _Ursidae_ feels his snarl become more vicious. _Terran scum._

The Terran warrior slowly, as if approaching an animal, places the blond on the ground and against the dilapidated wall of the house – raged by years of theft and vandalism – and readies his weapon as his eyes land on the brunette still clasped between bloodied claws. His head lifts, and he removes the thick goggles he adorns over his eyes that seem to spark red vehemence in the flickering ribbon of moonlight against the _Ursidae_.

"Release the girl and atone for your crimes of underworld activity, Maurice Titanos," his voice is orotund, a loud and clear rumble deep in his chest and Maurice feels slight fear thread itself like gossamer fingers through his ribcage. As the _Terran's_ three-fingered hand closes tighter around the staff in hand and he protectively shields himself over the wilted body of the blond _Sapien_ girl, fire builds in Maurice's chest. He will not go gentle. "Drop her, or I shall be forced to claim –"

Maurice fractures the silence with a guttural laugh and as he drops the brunette to the ground ungracefully – taking pride in the way the _Terran_ 's lip curls – he flexes the claws on his hand, the black keratin substance glinting in a twisted way. "You cannot claim, _Terran_. Few exceptions have been made for your kind, and in this case – _you_ are not an exception. They are mine, and –"

"I claim the blond _Sapien_ girl, and you shall be brought to justice for the sins you have plagued the Freelands of, Titanos," he hisses, and the Bo staff is suddenly paralleled before the _Terran_ warrior, who collects it towards himself and spins it in a deadly arc and springs at the _Ursidae_ with the force of a hurricane locked in the skin of his heels.

The _Ursidae_ thief stumbles back in astonishment, throwing out a clawed paw pathetically as he dodges the wooden body of the staff. As a foot lands on his chest and the _Terran_ springs backwards, high in a graceful flip, the Northern _Ursidae_ feels resolve melt at his fingertips. Horror strikes his veins with a slice when he recognizes the polished and poised way the warrior dances around him – forever on toes that have barely touched the ground, always a step in the dance before him – and he is rough and uncontained in anger as he throws a leg out, only brushing the foot of the _Terran_. It hardly interrupts his careful footing and the large Northern bear feels much like prey instead of predator.

He crumbles like a building with the final attack, the rear of the Bo staff being brought from its trail against the ground and into his temple, splitting the world and the ring that battered his sensitive ears reminding him he was alive before he met the darkness gladly. The _Terran_ pants above him, and his fingers loosen across the splintered staff in his hands. He lifts it and slots it into the leather sheath that hangs across his shell and turns, the once hard eyes softening as his gaze falls across the blond _Sapien_ girl he'd rescued.

All traces of the warrior wrapped in cloaked skin disappears in return for a nervous bundle of nerves as he inspects her, much like a doctor analyzing a patient. Incredibly soft touches brush across the hollow and sharp intake of her cheek to the curve of her jaw, where the skin is a mix of blue bruises and reddened sickness in the blooms. Her hair is limp and unwashed, pulled back from her face by a clip that was most likely stolen, showing off a slim nose and sunken in eyes. Her friend across the narrow dirt road is not much better, a teenage girl of bones wrapped in borrowed clothes and the _Terran_ feels hostility flare in the knotted veins in his fingertips.

He hadn't realized that the background screams of battle and bloodshed had blurred out from existence until he feels the impending clatter of horse hooves against earth, and he straightens his form with the blond girl clasped between his arms. He casts a pitying gaze across to the crumpled brunette, who had unconsciously clawed her fingers into the ground whilst curled into a foetus position, much like a scared child after a nightmare had wracked their mind of any comfort.

When he turns, he finds his brother sat tall on a horse, with two guards at his right and a horse in tow for him. For all his destructive blood, protectiveness wins over and the shorter strides forwards, taking the taller into a side-hug that speaks volumes of his worry and guilt peels away at his skin as he mutters to him in the brittle tongue of their language. "Donatello, are you hurt? What happened here?"

Donatello looks over his shoulder to the three bodies behind him – a _Sapien_ , _Felidae_ and the one they came for, the _Ursidae_ leader Maurice Titanos – and Donatello rattles off his words like he's been taught and responds in _Terran._ "I apprehended the main three of the operations underground in the Freelands, and managed to save two _Sapiens_ in the process." He gestures to his arms, where the vibrant green eyes drag down towards the unconscious girl in his arms.

His eyes widen slightly at the unsightly pattern of black and blue that mottles a soft face, how her fingers curl into his brother's purple cloak cataleptically. His shorter brother, with muscles that could hold a tank at shame and a rough exterior that would rival sandpaper, he sees his eyes melt and soften at the sight of a girl abused by her body from the moment she broke into the world. Then, his gaze shifts over towards the slumped figure across them, remembering there were two in their possession.

Sliding around his brother with the grace that someone with his frame shouldn't possess, and he drops to his haunches, hands hanging loosely over bent knees. His brow crumples, a small ball of worry settling as his eyes search her face. Unlike her accomplice, her face is twisted is anger and protectiveness, with hollow cheeks and a curled in body. Pity for her worms its way across his chest and he pushes back the dark brown tresses that have fallen from her cloth prison around her head, noticing how she seems, unbidden, to turn away from the intrusion. A chuckle slips between his teeth.

Almost shyly, Donatello dips his head into his chest and peers down at the soft features of the _Sapien_ girl, a smile tugging the corners of his lips. "I-I claimed her Raph, to save her from what they would've done if they h-had gotten them, and," he swallows around the clump of words on his tongue, watching as Raph, with his sensitive, narrowed eyes, peers suspiciously over his shoulder as he fidgets. "I need you t-to claim her friend, because we both know what will happen if we take them and only one is claimed, Raphael!"

He hurries into his words, flustered by the look of pure shock by his brother as he stands, head tilted at the astonishment by the favour. Defiance flares in his throat, ready to brandish words made of steel against his kind-hearted brother when he looks back down towards the curled up figure beneath him, fingers twisted into the earth below them, like she clings to the last thing she remembers, even in sleep, and every bit of obstruction to the idea falls away like bricks.

With a piercing look towards the purple-cloaked _Terran_ , who with a knowing smirk already mounts his horse and sits the girl in his arms in front of him gently, he drops down and gingerly, folds a large arm beneath her knees and around her back, almost recoiling at the press of sharp bones protruding and pushing against the skin on her back, almost like deathly angels wings fighting for release. But, with careful hands, he mounted his horse and sat her comfortably against his plastron, curling the scarlet cloak around her shoulders and avoiding the gaze of his smiling brother.

From his side, Raphael heard Donatello mutter a quick 'thank you,' tacking on a relieved sigh as they climbed the hill. The steel in Raphael's eyes gave way to a leaf like curl of softness as he looked back towards the sleeping brunette, propped against his plastron and he'd deny if his voice sounded far away. He was an arm's length and a universe away when he spoke, "you know, this means you and I both can't claim for another year."

Victory pocketed itself in the corners of Donatello's smile. "You've never claimed anyways. Besides," he answers as they approach the _Terran_ army of collected soldier's, allowing the two guards by their sides to stride forwards on their horses and place the accumulated criminals in the detention cells until they were brought to justice. He smiles as the army erupts in cheers for two of their four Mason's approaching, "you'll like her – she's a lot like you."


	3. - ch two

_In the past, people were born royal. Nowadays, royalty comes from what you do._ – Gianni Versace

* * *

 **Ch two**

Consciousness returned slowly in the fumble of her fingertips, in the sandpaper taste of her tongue – bitten in a fit of nightmares in her sleep – and slowly, blearily, sunken in silver eyes split open, and her heart begins to press against her ribs in shock. This was not her home.

As quick the pinprick of the thought floods her mind, she releases her body from where she lays and hits the ground in a tumble, knees bent and body lowered dangerously close to the ground like an animal prepared for attack. Her bony fingers flex out as her eyes cast over her surroundings.

The first thing she notices is the smell of soft Jasmine, which reminds her of a Japanese summer in a field she'd never been in and she chokes on it. Her eyes widen, showing the sliver of tears that collect along her eyelashes and her heart speeds it's rhythm as it notes the high ceiling and sloping walls, almost like she's been shoved into a temple and vaguely wonders whether she should drop to her knees and hiss prayers beneath her tongue. At her right, a bed with boundless mattresses that looks softer than clouds sits, large curtains overshadowing its body and she dimly notices that that was where she had found herself. Across the sloping, thick walls, thick red tapestries hang spilling tales of battles and family bonds she has no business invading upon. Across the floor, mats woven by reeds seemed to don the entire ground wherever she stepped and at the foot of the bed, a few feet away, a _kotatsu_ table adorned with a silver china tea set sat across more traditional _tatami_ mats. On the right side of the bed, a large balcony overlooked whatever was below and allowed soft light to fall over the reed mats and on the brunette's left, an entire wall was dedicated to the art of weaponry across it, which left her to scramble away in animalistic fright.

Her voyage of staring at the exquisite room was cut short as the silence she'd wrapped herself in was broken by the sound of a door opening and as quick as she'd awoken, the small brunette had thrown herself backwards and landed on the other side of the bed, crouched down so as not to be seen, just like the world had taught her. But, curiosity licked at her skin and she inched towards the foot of the bed, peering around it towards where the door had opened.

Across the room, soft footsteps broke the air and a girl shuffled in, _Sapien_ like herself. She had a kind face, round with a child-like wonder and showed a well-fed woman and freckles across a ski-jump nose that spoke of childhood days in the sunlight. Dark eyes, framed by thick lashes, fell onto the _kotatsu_ table, placing a plate with slices of fruit that seemed to drip with juice, soft cheese and small pieces of bread that turned the other girl's stomach in hunger. Soft tendrils of dark hair fell from the elaborate bun placed on top of her head. She seemed almost like a geisha, but she was bare of the festivities and makeup, adorned only in a pale orange yukata, with a peach coloured obi tied securely around her waist.

Suddenly, the girl straightened herself, brows arching in a perplexed position, and she swept her eyes towards the bed where a ruffle of blankets and a familiar cloth that had been wrapped around dark tresses lay. With an air of child-like amusement, the girl's lips lifted into a smile and her folded hands sat on her hips. With a playful voice, she called out, "I know you're there."

Her blood pumped faster and the other presses herself to the boundless amount of sheets, folding in her breathing to appear ghostly, as if she was never there but something solid inside her seemed to splinter apart, when she heard bare feet slowly pad across the floor towards her, and a type of kindness and understanding she'd never heard reserved only for her leaked into the now suddenly soft-spoken voice. "It's okay; you don't have to be afraid. No one will hurt you here."

With new-found determination tasting bittersweet on her tongue, her shaking legs rose, pressing her back against the bed and she found herself gripping onto one of the twisted wooden posts that wrapped around it like wooden skin for support. Her silver eyes met with the dark brown hues as a wide smile pulled at her freckled cheeks. With gentle footsteps, the smaller brunette – who she now noticed was positioned just below her eyes – approached her with her hands outstretched, and a smile that could put the sun to shame.

She didn't touch her; she seemed to know that if she had, then the shorter would walk away with a bruise. She walked with an air of understanding, but seemed to breathe compassion as she gestured towards the _kotatsu_ a few feet away with a nod of her head. "Would...would you like something to eat? You must be hungry; you've been unconscious for a while now."

Her silver eyes wandered back to the table and her stomach gave an unconscious lurch in hunger, creating a large sound that filled the room and made the shorter brunette laugh; before guiding her towards the _kotatsu_ table. When the other hesitated to follow, clinging only to the bed post for support, the other _Sapien_ girl's dark eyes flooded with mischief as she sat herself down. "If you come and try to eat something, I'll tell you where you are."

The prospect seemed to fall in her favour – a full stomach and information – and the Sapien girl knew a good deal when she was presented with them. So, with the quietest footsteps possible, she walked over towards the low seated table and lowered herself with the grace of a dancer. She nervously picked at the food, sliding lone grapes into her mouth, taking a slice of apple whilst being unsure of how to act in front of someone who seemed to own the room the moment she swept in. But when the brunette pushed the plate closer towards her, indicating it was okay to eat, the other seemed to devour the plate itself along with the food as she ate, her hollow stomach humming in happiness.

The shorter of the two watched, slightly amused with her chin pressed into her hands, marvelling at the sight of her, setting the other's skin aflame in slight uncomfortably. She let her eat in silence and as the food disappeared from her plate, the other began to speak with barely contained excitement that seemed to break through the cracks on her skin. "My name's Sirani and I've been sent to sort of... _welcome_ you here. But, I want you to know, that you are completely safe here and no-one will hurt you," her excitement is placed on a shelf and is exchanged for seriousness, as she tilted her head to the side, trying to see all angles of the sharp and skeletal face, "do you understand?"

When silver eyes darted back and forth, with a shaky nod, a lopsided smile graced her face and she pressed a cup of steaming tea into her freezing hands. Her dark eyes flickered with a light she'd never really seen in anyone's, and the message they sent her was appreciated that there was nothing to be scared of in this strange place. "You're gonna want some tea, the bread can _really_ dry out your throat sometimes, trust me. Also, if it's not to forward, but do you have a name?"

The silver-eyed _Sapien_ girl didn't answer, choosing to press her face further into the rounded mouth of the steaming coffee, still untrusting of the openly kind and trusting Sirani across from her, who leaned over the table in an almost innocent and naive way, too trusting for her own good, the other almost felt pity. If this girl, who seemed to flutter with royalty and refinement in her kindness, had done this in her lands – the Freelands – she would have survived the world for less than an hour.

he gave another lopsided grin that spoke of understanding. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want too, but we'll have to call you something sooner or later. But, for right now," softly, she peers at the girl's clothes and she folds herself further in on herself, like a city collapsing and when Sirani notices she's made her uncomfortable, she rears back and stands, "we should get you some warmer clothes. Then, you can go and see your friend."

At the mention of that, and with Sirani's retreating back towards the thick wooden doors, the taller feels her body hum with new fortitude, violin tunes pulling at her skin. The strength returns to her legs like waves and she shuffles over towards the girl with dark eyes and clutches her shoulder for support. In response, she only tosses a small smile and lets her hold on with the prospect of seeing her friend once again.

"W-Where is she?" he voice is hoarse and quiet when she speaks, and her own eyes round in bewilderment at the strength she's lost, even in her voice. The loss of air and the sleeping for how many hours or days had sapped her energy.

Sirani gives her a knowing smile and threads her arm through hers like a needle, careful and precise, so different to her bouncing toes on the carpeted floor. "She's fine, please don't worry. Most likely, she's probably with our medical professionals or in Donatello's quarters."

When confusion scrutinizes itself on her features, Sirani's smile leaks outwards into a bundle of laughter; so loud it makes her jump. But it falls and strings itself between her own teeth, and plucks a smile on violin strings. Sirani's smile doesn't leave her cheeks – she made her laugh, and happiness blooms like a flower between clockwork wrenched ribs. "Donatello is one of the lords of the house, and he's very kind. You seriously don't have to worry – she's probably in the best hands possible."

 _She would be safer in mine_ , she bites back the snake-like venom when her smile fell apart like peeling wallpaper, and follows along after Sirani obediently. But, curiosity inks itself across her tongue, flicking it upwards and spurring her croaked voice into action. "W-What is Donatello like?"

Something like velvet fondness folds across Sirani's features, and her eyes flicker up towards her companion. "I don't know much of Donatello, he keeps to himself mostly, but from what I've heard, he saved your friend's life. His kindness stretches further than that, I promise."

Sirani winks at her over the tin-can promise, string-like fingers pulling at the twisted handle of a door and as she turns the other feels surprise leak across her bones, reshaping her view of the girl. She knew that she wouldn't care for a lengthy explanation of the ghostly saviour; she was only interested in the wellbeing of Ash. But there were other things to take care of first.

Walking into the cavern of a room was like walking into a nest. It wrapped itself around like a bowl and careened into an unseen point above the flurried heads of workers, like an arrow pointing skyward. Across the walls, there seemed to be pockets etched into them, with matching fabrics and threads and needles as voices flared up through the room, shouting orders and requests like hawking seagulls. Below the arrow above, hundreds of desks, piled high with clothing and sewing machines sat, with people sat at them and the girl, who upon waking had no idea where she was, felt her jaw slip open.

In front of her, was a mix of _Sapien_ and _Terran_ women, and she knew exactly where she was. A small _Terran_ female, albeit taller than Sirani, fell into step alongside them as they entered the room, in a pale blue kimono with midnight eyes that seemed to spear the girls with her gaze. But Sirani never faltered; her smile only pulling tighter as the stoic faced female regarded her, but she swore that she saw something gentle melt at the sight of the brown haired woman in the _Terran_ females eyes.

"Do you need assistance, Lady Sirani?" her brittle voice bled into the atmosphere, three-fingered hands threading together at her plastron-plated abdomen as she bent at the waist. Sirani mirrored her actions gently, and presented the taller girl towards the female.

The silver-eyed girl squeaked in shock, fight or flight flaring up in her abdomen as the assessing gaze of the female Terran pinned her to her spot. Behind her, the even voice, though marred with slender fear, fell upon her ears. "Chiyo, this is Lord Raphael's claim..."

As the gap in the sentence for her name to be presented ripped a hole between the three, she felt her vocal chords string themselves up, lining like soldiers, and she ignored her startled nature at the mention of _claim_. "M-Midori," in the small time she had known Sirani, the only thing she held close to her chest had fallen out into the open – the only thing she had to call her own for a _long_ time. She would've been angry for the ounce of trickery, had it not been for the beaming, succeeded smile that had plucked itself upon Sirani's features afterwards, as if the greatest prize she could have obtained had been deposited between her small hands. She only gave a soft grunt in response.

With resolve, Sirani spoke up again. "This is Lord Raphael's claim, Midori, and he has instructed me to appoint you with aligning her with some clothes. She'll only need the basics now, and when she's properly settled, we'll account for winter, formalwear and sleepwear. But, she has to see Lady Artemisia after this, so possibly in a formal for now?"

Chiyo bent at the waist with a smile, and grasped Midori's arm gently, pulling her to the centre of the room with a spying look casting over the small but strong frame. As she was placed in the centre, another _Sapien_ girl, who was named Rie with fire-licking eyes, seemed to dip and weave around her, folding a tape measure around her waist and stretched long over her sides, muttering measurements that turned her head. All the while, over her shoulder, Sirani watched with mischief pocketed in her smile, explaining the situation.

She cocked her head like a child as Rie lowered herself to read a measurement about the length of her body, and her lips parted. "Midori, I'm going to be straight with you – after this, you're going to be meeting the Lady of the place," when she noticed Midori's bones started to quiver beneath the stretch of her skin, and Rie raised herself again, she gave her an easy smile, "don't worry, she's a very nice girl. A good hide'n'seeker too, but anyways, she'll explain to you where you are and what's happening here with you, if you've not figured it out already. But, you need to remember, she's probably one of the most important people here, so you totally need to treat her with respect. Seriously, do it."

As the smell of tender silk, woven by careful hands, was draped across her body, she felt dizzy. A pale scarlet, wreathed with soft flowers in a deep garnet and it was cinched tight at her waist by a red obi. When she was pulled from the centre of the room and pushed into wooden sandals and presented to Sirani, who gave an enthusiastic nod, thanked the workers and pulled her arm through hers, she felt fear rattle in her bones.

When the door was closed behind them to the sewing staff, Sirani stopped and turned to Midori. Her index finger pushed against Midori's chest, like a knife pressing into her heart. All laughter was blurred from the girl's face, a tight-lipped expression pulling at her features. " _This,_ " she started, gestured to the red yukata, "is a statement. It shows Raphael's claim to you in their house and to guests of his home. He isn't the primary lord, but it is still his home. So, this statement shows that the only people that give you orders are to be Raphael or the other lords – Donatello, Michelangelo and Leonardo. Let no-one intimidate you, you are a claim of a Terran lord. That also stands for Artemisia and myself. You are _our_ equal and I'm taking you to meet her now."


	4. - ch three

_Years ago women my size were considered royalty_ \- Cameron Manheim

* * *

 **Ch three**

If elegance had been written into the curves of Sirani's bones, the girl poised above her was the physical embodiment of it. Though she wears no gown of intricate weavings, fitted together with gentle branches and spider-like legs, she sits in a one piece that stretches over delicate arms and curled legs. Her bow-string back is straight and against the jutted out wall that frames the window, as if the string of a violin runs through it. Long fingers curl over yellowed pages that seemed to fit along the line of books that is placed just beneath her, that stretch towards the rest of the library. Beneath her, where both Midori and Sirani stood, clasped at the elbow, a mixture of _Terran_ and _Sapien_ scholars scurrying around them both.

Midori watches as Sirani's lips split with a grin and a hand cups her mouth, calling out to the girl that sits a windowsill and a world away. "Artemisia! _Arty!_ Come meet Midori!"

The girl lifts her head sharply at the nickname, as well as a few scholars, annoyance softening itself in the corners of her downturned lips. Vague amusement throws itself across Midori's veins like a buzz as Sirani's smile only turns mischievous, and her hand waves above her head, all elegant grace disappeared from her bouncing toes.

Artemisia closes the book and presses it into the slotted-in bookshelf as she steps down and descends the stairs beneath her, and she walks as if she hangs on the lip of the world's mouth. Her features are sharp, eyes like stained glass as she surveys and judges the form of Midori from behind honey-brown tendrils of hair. Midori's muscles tensed slightly – she was never good with introductions.

As the taller girl descended the stairs and stood before her, fingers clasped at her waist like a flower was criss-crossed between them, she waved Sirani off with a wave of her head and she trotted away with a hopeful smile. The air stole itself from Midori's lungs – right now, Sirani was her oxygen in the presence of the calm waterfall before her that threatened to drown her.

But, when Sirani disappeared, a kindly smile peeled back the sharpness of Artemisia's features and a tentative hand laid itself over the curve of Midori's shoulder blade. "Forgive my cold demeanour before – I was merely lost in a book before and I don't like to be interrupted," she said, turning them both back towards the stairs behind her before retracting her hand, "also, I ask you pardon my attire as I was not expecting introductions today. You are the girl that was rescued four days ago, am I right?"

Midori stayed silent, only giving a nod and a soft grunt in response, not denying the factual evidence of her rescue. Delight flared in her chest at the wrinkle of Artemisia's nose at such a masculine noise, and she stifled a chuckle between her teeth. "Sirani said that she'd tell me where I was – though I can pretty much guess – and what I'm doing here but she never did."

The unasked question hangs in the air by a thread and an eye roll crosses the sharp features of the fellow _Sapien_ girl, who nods to a passing scholar before answering her companion with thin lips. "Sirani always did have a... _lapse_ in memory, but all questions shall be answered here," the two Sapien girls reach the last few steps of the stairs above, that stretch into a thin hallway towards a door. As they leave behind the rushing scholars below, Artemisia glides across the floor towards the doors ahead, passing windows and tapestries regaling stories that Midori had never heard. As rebellion splinters in her throat, her eyes turn towards the outside, and it all but washes away at the sight that lies behind the pane of glass.

Her fingers brush the exterior, feeling the coolness beneath it and her breath fogs against the window pane in her astonishment. Below her, scratched effortlessly into thick white stone were balcony's and rooms and homes, with the twisted bodies of ivy and wisteria plants blooming brightly across them. In her peripheral vision, she could see gated-off training grounds with sprinting soldiers flying across them, but took no notice. Further ahead of the homes that bled into the landscape further away from where she was, she saw fields full of grass, crops and cattle and a bridge that fell over the part of the island that was separated further from the rest of the village. Her breath caught between wire-curled lungs in the expanse of her chest – she'd never been so high.

Over her shoulder, a soft voice, laced with vague fondness and pride, whispered in her ear, "Welcome to Terra, Midori," Artemisia placed her fingers on her arm like the chords of a piano, and pulled her towards the doors, "We have a lot to discuss."

Almost in a haze, Midori followed after Artemisia into the room, noticing the high walls and the wall-to-wall library, split by the large windows in front of the table and the doorway. Striding over towards the table, Artemisia plucked a plate of food from it and sat down, gesturing for Midori to sit across from her. When the plate was pushed towards her, a brow lifted into her hairline. "But...I've already ate today."

An almost-smirk painted across Artemisia's features and she pushed the plate closer, retrieving a rolled-up piece of parchment from her side, stretching it out and folding away any crease that appeared as Midori placed cheeses and fruits into her lips, muttering over the yellowed teeth of the paper, "yes, but we've been given strict instructions by our _Terran_ doctors to continue to give you the nutrients you need – your friend too," she peered over the edge of the parchment with vague intrigue, "I'm sure you have questions about her as well."

"Yeah," answered Midori, wiping the smudge of strawberry from her lips as Artemisia's top lip gave an unconscious curl of disgust, "first off – where is she?"

"Safe in Donatello's quarters and here is where I go into detail of what that actually means and who he is," she answered, turning the parchment and pushing it towards Midori, who remembers the long name of _'Donatello'_ and notices the refined style of scripture that she tries hard to read – but _Terran_ language had never been her best language. She looks up to Artemisia for help. "Roughly translated, this document entails the political laws of _Terra_ – sort of like a modern _Magna Carte_ for _Terran_ law. It's most known and lived by law is the agreement of Claim; it is when someone of _Terran_ society takes in someone of another clan that is in a less than hospitable environment. It is a seriously taken matter and someone can only claim once a year, which is how long the claim shall be taken in for or longer if they wish."

As Midori's eyes uselessly scanned the clockwork of tumbling scripture, trying to decode the swirl of a language she'd never learnt. Her head tilted like a child, brows furrowing angrily at not have being given a straight answer. "And what does this have to do with Ash and I?"

Annoyance clawed at Artemisia's skin at the interruption and she slightly bristled before forcing the fire-breathing feeling back into her stomach, her fingers dusting over four names highlighted in bold. "This law was set in place by the four Masons after the death of their late sensei that rebuilt the _Terran_ society with their names in the ground, setting to work up an era of peace. They mostly only claim _Sapien_ commoners, as our government is hardly hospitable compared to the healthcare and currency-keeping of the _Felidae_ or the _Lynx_ _Rufus_ clans, however they are still accounted for in lesser numbers in _Terra_ ," looking up, Artemisia's pointed fingers circle two names sat side by side together, written in _Terran_ language but they stick in Midori's throat all the thicker and all the same, "Donatello and Raphael are two of the four Masons, and they have claimed you and Ash as theirs, effectively giving you a home right here in _Terra._ "

As the air seems the fly from between her collapsing lungs, and water seems to fill the empty spaces, Midori feels her muscles tense once more for battle when she hears a slight cluck of disapprove from behind her. She didn't turn as the footsteps approached her in a silent footfall, but her nails curled into the wooden arm rests even harder.

"You were always bad at relaying the policies of the Claim, Artemisia – I should've had Michelangelo tell our guest instead," the voice is deep with thinly-masked humour as the owner of it walks towards them. Artemisia's smile grows – pure and blinding – as she gives a light hearted chuckle. The figure passes and Midori feels her chest clench in shock. Before her, standing in a rare and fine material of blue _haori_ , is a blue-eyed _Terran_ with smooth, defined muscles form years of working in the barracks in training with a worn blue bandana over the crystal blue. She can only describe him as silent, with an air of authority that had shocked even her, who had been more involved with authority than anyone. But the smile that plays on his features, though fondly soft for Artemisia, is faintly understanding for her and his eyes slide over her and somehow he _knows_.

Artemisia smiles as he sits gingerly on the edge of the table, her hand landing on a clothed knee. "Ah, but Michelangelo is on a social equities meeting with the _six heads_ and will not be back for two more days. So, unfortunately, I am the one to take his role," she answers playfully, sitting back in her seat as if in relief that she no longer has to explain the details of the claim agreement.

The large terrapin easily takes the reins of the conversation, the same rare understanding and calmness represented in his eyes as well as Artemisia's. His hands fold like origami cranes wings and he gives a nod of his head. "I believe you are Midori – your name has already spread across our home," he chuckled at the seethe of agitation she displayed at the information; "I can see that you are not suited for palace life, Midori."

She shrugs, tilting her head in a nod of _'I can see it too, don't worry, I see who I am too so please do not remind me.'_ Even if the statement may be true, it still bleeds into her heart, thick and deep and hot like iron. "I am more suited for alleys and doorways than palace walls, I must be honest."

His own shoulders bounce with a restrained chuckle as he perches himself further onto the table, entwining his fingers with Artemisia's before she stands and walks to the other end of the room and out of her sight. But she still keeps track as her footfalls descend, and she sees how the Terran warrior notices her keen sense. "Midori, I am Leonardo, one of the four Masons that Artemisia was talking about earlier –"

"Before you interrupted."

"– Before I interrupted, that is," he echoes with a slice of irony to his words, spearing a glance at Artemisia as she places a glass of water in front of Midori and sits herself back in her seat at Leonardo's knee, pretending to be oblivious that the turtle was sending her, "but the claim agreement is nothing more than an agreement; it is a binding arrangement between two parties, which means you have a say in what you choose for your own life."

As she pulls the rim of the glass from her lips, swearing that the water was sweeter than anything she'd tasted and blaming it on royal exceptions, her brow furrows. "If I am to sign my life away, I would rather know _who_ it is being signed away too than to _what_."

At the sharpness of her tone, neither flinches at the sound, as if marble stone lies in the expanse of their emerald and chocolate-coloured skin. They don't blame her – to be awoken to a new life with no knowledge of the ties of your past was a frightful thing and Artemisia had known the better half of that story for the most of a year. As Artemisia's unease and concern for the girl rose, as well as her legs from the chair, she felt Leonardo's strong hand lay across the space between her shoulder blades and she sat once again in her seat.

Leonardo's own three-fingered hand pressed across the document at his hands and circled the second name that had no under spelling to tell her of its significance until he spoke once again. "If you were to agree to the Claim, and would live under _Terran_ rule here, you would be protected by Raphael and I can honestly tell you that...he is one of the best protectors in _Terra_."

She studied the scrawl of intricate lettering, which seemed to twist itself to somehow form a slight gibberish of words across the page, making her eyes strain. But, curiosity pricked her skin and the soft warmth that pulled and pushed his words causing her to mutter, "You talk as if you are family."

"Of course I do, he is my brother," there was no hint of doubt or hesitation in Leonardo's voice and she realized – these four masons were more than the pillars that _Terran_ society was built on. Though the weight of an entire society rested on their shoulders, Leonardo looked to be only a teenager _now,_ and she could feel the warmth of family in his words. Somewhere, she accumulated the same warmth to whatever she felt for the smaller blond _Sapien_ girl she had pulled off the streets four years ago, covered in ash.

As the world blurred at her eyes, and Midori claimed that the water had been spiked, Artemisia spoke as Leonardo stood and rounded the table to the side of Midori's chair where she sagged towards. "Of course, no one is expecting you to make any decisions now. All we are expecting is for both you and Ash to sleep and regain your strength." True to her word and expectations, Midori felt consciousness slip through gossamer fingers and she fell into Leonardo's waiting arms.


	5. - ch four

_You don't have to give birth to someone to have a family._ – Sandra Bullock

* * *

 **Ch four**

Midori awoke amongst the furs once again, the tingle of smell permeating through her scorch-marked nightmares when she twisted awake. She groaned as she sat, muscles contracting across a once-again empty stomach. But with the promise of smell, comes the promise of food.

Sliding across the furs that seem to drop her into the lap of the floor, she stands like a dancer on pointed toes and crosses the room back to the _kotatsu_ table. She finds another plate filled with food, however slightly smaller than the rest of her meals with a steaming cup of tea beside it. She falls silently, almost as if in silent prayer as she eats again and sniffs the tea before gingerly bringing it towards her lips to drink. As she eats, her fingers brush across the table and the crinkle of paper sweep over the wandering appendages.

With a down-turned brow, she folds open the paper with her name written in flawless red script. Inside, the same style of writing greets her in _Sapien_ language, telling her to go down towards the bathhouse with a servant, giving her instructions on how to contact them, and then that she would be given new clothes and to go back to her room in Raphael's quarters.

 _Raphael._ The name felt solid on her tongue, strong and strange all at once. She heard whispers under tongues through the halls when she passed with Sirani earlier, greedy in their rumour-telling and slightly wistful. Various glares were sent towards her and though the roar of lions was embedded in her throat from years in the wild of the Freelands, she shied away in the uncertain territory of her cage. So, she tucked the rumours into her bodice for later – ' _strong_ Raphael,' ' _detrimental_ Raphael,' 'why would he _ever_ follow the same claim as his brothers?' – And sighed through her nose. She would judge Raphael for herself when she saw him, but the rumours still bled iron into her stomach.

A few moments later, whilst lost in thought a soft tap on the door sounded, knocking her out of her mind and into the real world as she stood to answer it. However, the other on the other side of the door pushed through and stood in front of her. A _Terran_ female stood with her head bowed and blue eyes staring upwards under the crease of her, emerald skin mapped in a blue kimono, awaiting instructions. Though never to be one for spitting instructions like venom, Midori thrust the paper towards the young woman who collected it up in her hands and nodded, folding it and placing it back in Midori's shaking fingers and slid back down the hallway with her in tow.

The castle made her nervous. Though she'd never admit it, the stone walls made her skin quiver and her stomach turn to fire in fear of suddenly being grasped from the wrists and dragged away, to meet Maurice with a snake-skin smile pulling at his scarred muzzle. But the front she put up was confidence, albeit cracked, though no-one seemed to notice the fractures that pulled at her skin, showing the furious palpitation of her doe-girl heart. The castle made her nervous, though she would never admit it.

She sped up her steps to catch up with the _Terran_ girl who gave her a glance over her shoulder that spoke more words than tongues did and Midori felt her gaze shift. Though her main objective, ever since waking to the bowl of a ceiling, was to find Ash and she had not come any closer than when she started, she still felt guilty for something that was not her own. The _looks_ they gave her seemed to make her think she had done something she had no recollection of and she felt all the more worse for not knowing it.

When a hand was on her elbow, pulling her back into the world and into a room, her eyes circled in astonishment. In front of her, carved into the same stone that the castle was embedded into, were four rounded bowls of water, steam rolling high from their stone mouths and it clothes her in condensed breath. One bowl is position above another, which in turn shadows two more side by side on the ground. A cascading waterfall drips from the gullet of the top one into the second, furiously washing and scrubbing at any debris left in the second bowl. She would not be surprised if the bathhouse was a rare pride among the _Terran's_.

The girl directs her to one of the lower bowls and says that she'll be back with her clothes after her bath. She strips her clothes from her body and sheds them to the ground, eagerly immersing herself into the water with a thank you on her lips as the girl leaves. A sigh cracks through her throat as the warmth of the water floods her senses and burns her nerve endings to a crisp but she hardly minds.

As the dirt and sweat and fear is wiped from her skin and she dips and dives in her own world of bubbles and water, her mind wanders. Though her hands are tired, her body is tired; revolt is an urge that is yet to be quenched in her doe-girl heart and she cracks a plan from an egg to find her sister. When the water is no longer dripping from her body and she is wrapped in a simple housecoat, Midori stands tall on shaking knees, making a beeline towards the door before the _Terran_ girl comes back to retrieve her and take her to her room. But, the plan shatters and falls in glass sticking into her palms when she collides with a plated chest when the door closes just behind her.

A soft groan emits from both as her head bumps painfully into a chin, sending a spark of pain shooting through her temple. She stumbles back, holding a hand to her brow and peering under her palm. A _Terran_ male, tall and lanky, with defined muscles across his body, like a taller equivalent of Leonardo. A three-fingered hand holds his jaw, giving it a soft rub. Chocolate eyes squint with the wince as they move downwards, gaze as soft as silk. Midori gasps and stands back as she notices the purple kimono wrapped over his shell and tied securely in the front like her own.

His lips pull up in a kind smile. "Forgive me, I didn't see you. I'm Donatello, the more literate of my brothers and you're Midori, am I correct?" he speaks, holding a hand out in greeting when she nods. Cautiously, slowly, Midori slips her fingers into his, surveying the turtle as his fingers close over her painfully thin wrist. "It's a pleasure to meet you – awake, that is."

He chuckles around his words, lips peeling back to show off the gap between his teeth that makes him seem boyish and much younger than his years than is possible. The turtle sets her at ease; his kind demeanour and quiet voice calm the pinprick of nerves that had spiked across her skin when she had awoken amongst the sheets of her be – Raphael's bed. Her eyes widen at his words, and her mind filters back to the figure that had collected the figure of Ash in his arms, the tattered cape curling protectively around her as if she were _his_. Ash was _no one's_ but Midori's.

His smile widens more when he notices the circle of shock in her silver eyes. "I see you remember me as well then, that's good. Concerning As –" Donatello's words fall away like crumbling brickwork when both are approached by another _Terran_ male in the same coloured blue kimono as his female counterpart. The boy starts at the sight of Donatello and bends at the waist instantly when Donatello's brow crushes in confusion. "Gaspard. You're one of Leonardo's legion, why are you collecting Midori from her bath?"

"L-Lord Donatello, I..." the boy stutters around his words as he straightens, obviously not used to speaking to high class. "Lord Leonardo-o instructed us that until Lord Raphael returns from his barracks training that only he is to take instructions from regarding Lord Raphael's claim and asked me to escort her back to Raphael's quarters."

Midori's fingers itch with flames of anger, feeling the bars of her cage in this stone palace closing further in on her, striking themselves across her pulsing lungs and pressing her to ground. Her lips slide open, ready to throw insults and rocks when the smooth form of Donatello drips between her and Gaspard, his stance relaxed and gentle. "Well, in this case, I shall be the one escorting her but thank you for your concern Gaspard. Please relay this information to Leonardo so he does not worry."

 _"_ _Hai, chrella t'eo ky_ _,"_ Gaspard muttered, a sickly sweet smile on his face as he bowed and fell away back down the hallway, head bowed like the world weighed on his skull. Donatello gave a faint nod of his head and turned back towards Midori, who still stared after the Terran male that set her skin crawling like bugs had taken refuge in it.

"Well, that was... _tense_. He's always been a nosy one. Now, please allow me to escort you to your quarters, and possibly through the bathhouse so you don't have to walk around in something so revealing," he says good-naturedly, casting a look towards the thigh length housecoat that covered her body, and Midori felt her fingers tug at the hem, an unsettling hue of red blooming on her pale cheeks. Donatello's elbow jutted out towards her, letting her own arm thread like silk through it as they entered the bathhouse once more and strode across the wide expanse of space to the split between the two lower bowls of water. She notices the hum on his tongue as his hand digs into the wall where a subtle line can be seen, and tugs the wall open. When they push through the wall and it slots closed behind them, she relishes in the familiar feel of the shadows swallowing her body.

The lights flicker on down the long hallway before their footsteps fall in time together, like an orchestra in waiting for the tip of their conductor's baton. She pulls her arm away as if Donatello's skin had been inked in fire, and he takes it in stride. Even for all their kindness – the constant food, the clothes and the warm welcome – her chest can no longer trust.

"You were talking to me about Ash." Her voice is a pillar of ice as she falls into step beside Donatello, who sheds an aura of intelligence that sends her eyes to the ground in respect. Insecurity inks itself across her hands, making them sticky with every ounce of self-hate in her body when she is presented with his dark eyes, glinting red in the lamp light.

He continues forwards like a soldier. "Yes, I was. As you know, Ash was placed in my care as I was the one who claimed her. She woke up a yesterday, before you did today but has been resting and eating accordantly. I believe the reason for this, compared to your own strength as of now, is because her health has declined, due to a Sapien disease. Our medical professionals will continue to help her get stronger," Donatello turned, almond shaped eyes framed by a deep purple, "do you trust me with this?"

Her top teeth sunk into her bottom lip like a ship into the ocean floor, bone meets flesh and sinks into blood as she bites back 'maybe more than I trust her with myself.' But stubbornness rears a horn-studded head and her back straightens, looking upwards into his eyes. "I don't trust anyone with Ash's wellbeing except me, the only reason she's been alive all this time is _because_ of me."

She's shocked when he _understands_. Who breeds these men? Men that understand and learn and are _kind_ without hesitation or parameter, who scoop street mice from bear claws around their throat and place them between sheets softer than their own claws. Her breath is torn from her throat when he smiles, with no ice or ill intentions coating it.

"Very well then, if seeing Ash means all that much to you," he answers, striding forwards with long limbs and careful hands peeling back the stone wall again, flooding light onto the ground that tickles their closely placed feet. "Than by all means, see her."

It's only a fraction of a second when she notices – these are Raphael's quarters and the bed, adorned with lilac and purple and amethyst coloured sheets, is not the one she woke up in. Then, the sheets are moving up and down as someone is breathing under there –

Her feet move of their own accord, making the world split like glass beneath ballerina toes. She doesn't care to see the numerous tapestries and reed carpets, to the pile of books and the desk pressed against the wall when her shattered lungs knit back together at the sight of blond hair splayed over a dark pillow. Ash lays curled up, partially on her back and side with loose fists, one tangled in the duvet of the bed. A cracked sob works its way into the air when Midori's hands gently pet the untangled locks, washed and clean after so long of being trod into the dirt.

"Oh god, oh my god, Ash, I'm so _sorry_. I'm so sorry they found you, they...that they _hurt_ you," she's openly crying now, crouched at face level to the sleeping form of Ash, who only sniffles as a dream unfolds behind her eyes. "I promised I-I'd protect you and I...I _didn't._ God, I didn't protect you and I'm so sorry that I failed you, little sister."

Her back bends away from Donatello when he approaches to peer over her shoulder, fingers deftly swiping at the tears that paint her cheeks and if he see's anything, he doesn't say anything about it. But she notices how his features soften at the sight of the soft-hearted blond that curls up in his bed, fists loosely placed in the coil in the sheets, and she realizes that protectiveness for Ash has taken root in his chest, something similar to herself.

She gives Ash a final look and parting stroke of hair when she stands and although Donatello stands a head taller than her, her eyes are sharper than the blades she carried when she was nine. Her hands ball into fists at the base of her back. "Donatello, can you promise me something?"

Where her voice quivers, his does not. _He's stronger than I ever was for her._ "Of course I can."

Iron splits her blood in two as she relinquishes her pride and her armour cracks, spitting out her insecurities and protectiveness over the sickly girl by her hip. When she looks up, angry tears are present but neither acknowledges their existence. "Promise me that you'll protect her where I didn't, that I can trust her too you for as long as we're here if I cannot. She's too soft for this world but she's smart – resourceful if need be – and she's far too precious to me to let her leave this world. So please, for whatever happens, make sure she's safe."

The iron in her veins patches up her armour, and the shell of the strong girl is thrown up once again, deflecting sympathetic and curiosity from Donatello, but her shoulders slump in relief when he replies, without a moment's hesitation, "I will do my best." _Your best had better be good enough._

"Perhaps we should let you go to your own room now and rest, the day's information must be hard to digest on such an empty stomach," he speaks and he guides her back towards the hidden stone doorway, though he lets her linger for as long as she wants at Ash's side, whispering promises under a tongue that has only tasted bitter food for most of her life. When she stands and parts from Ash's side, who turns in her sleep further into the pillow, she walks like a soldier after Donatello's own long and graceful footsteps.

But when they come to another doorway, where her room is most likely behind, and the light floods the ground, she meets the worried gaze of Sirani, who stands a few inches shorter than another turtle and her eyes widen into circles.

The sheer size of him terrifies her and her veins whisper _'predator'_ in hymns at her, her blood smearing across her heart and causing it to thump fitfully against her ribs. His shoulders were defined with muscle that had been worked into shape for years; with sleek lines of broad strength that paralleled any other that she had seen. His skin was a deep green, a shade lighter than Donatello's but darker than Leonardo's. A _hakama_ , black with the few red attachments on the sleeves, was drenched across his shoulders, emphasizing their sheer strength. It dripped down to powerful legs but her eyes were only connected to his, a deep jade green wrapped in red that would make anyone jealous.

"Raphael," Donatello murmurs, as she steps around him into the room, a soft smile plucking his lips upwards, _"Tenma pas."_ She doesn't speak Terran, but somehow, it sounds like _'welcome home.'_


End file.
